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bloody-bee-tea · 10 hours

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June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 9 - I made a mistake

Satoru fucked up, he knows it. He knows it, but there’s no way to take it back, and that might just be the worst part about it.

He’s in dire need of some advice, so he barges into Shoko’s room, absolutely frantic to get some help.

“Shoko, I need your help,” he rushes out and Shoko only throws him a lazy look, clearly not convinced of the urgency of the situation.

“I’m not here to help you manage your social life,” she eventually says and Satoru frowns, momentarily forgetting his own very real, very serious problem.

“How do you know it’s that? I could be actively dying.”

“You have a voice for that.”

“A voice.”

“A very Shoko-I-somehow-got-my-arm-unattached-from-my-body-and-now-I-need-help-voice. This is not that. This is your Shoko-I-socially-fucked-up-voice. And with that I cannot help.”

“That’s—uncalled for, actually,” Satoru mutters before he gravity of the situation slams into him all over again. “But please, Shoko, I really do need your help.”

“You’re not going to leave without at least telling me about whatever you fucked up, are you?” she asks, clearly already somewhat resigned to her fate and she only sighs when Satoru shakes his head.

“Nope,” he still says for good measure, just so she knows just how serious this is and finally Shoko gives him her full attention.

“Okay, hit me with it, then,” she says and Satoru takes a deep breath.

“I may have implied to my family that Suguru is my boyfriend,” Satoru rushes out, in case Shoko changes her mind again and because it’s actually painful to admit that and immediately Shoko’s eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, damn,” she whispers. “You really fucked up.”

“I did,” Satoru cries out and buries his face in his hands. “Fuck, I fucked up so badly. How am I ever going to explain that to him in a way that doesn’t make him lose it?” he desperately asks and he doesn’t even need to look up to know that Shoko is wincing.

“I’m not sure that there’s a way,” she carefully says and Satoru almost sobs at that.

He knows that this is bad, that Suguru is probably going to hate him for it and he has no goddamn clue how he’s every going to fix it.

“What if I just don’t tell him?” he tries and Shoko hits him over the head for it.

“You know that your family is going to approach him if they think you’re together. Things are not quite that easy for you prominent clan members,” she reminds him as if Satoru could really have forgotten that.

“I know,” he whines out because it doesn’t help with his problem at all. “He’s going to cut me out of his life, I just know it. And then I’ll have lost him and I’ll have to tell my family that we broke up and I’m not going to survive it.”

“Oh, Satoru,” Shoko helplessly says, because what else is there to say, really.

Satoru is right after all.

Suguru is going to blow a fuse, he’s going to be incredibly mad at Satoru and then he won’t want anything to do with him anymore and just like that Satoru will have lost his one and only and all because he’s stupid and can’t function properly when he talks to his mother.

Fuck.

“Maybe he won’t take it so badly?” Shoko suggests and now that makes Satoru snort out a desperate laugh.

“Yeah, right. That seems likely with how vehemently he has always protested any kind of notion in that direction,” he gives back because people have mistaken them for a couple several times already and every time it was brought up, Suguru almost exploded with anger and he always rushes to set things straight: we’re not together, how dare you even suggest that, never say something like that again.

Satoru always found his reaction a little bit over the top, especially since he didn’t mind it at all and what does it even matter if some strangers think they are together, but Suguru was always quick to shut such suggestions down.

It made it more than clear that he’d never see Satoru in that light, that he’d never want a relationship, no matter how much Satoru wished for it and to fuck up like this now is probably going to cost him Suguru entirely.

Satoru just wants to hide himself away for the rest of his life, hoping that like this he doesn’t have to see Suguru be furious with him for a change.

“What are you going to do?” Shoko asks and Satoru deflates where he stands.

She’s right when she says that his clan will most likely contact Suguru somehow so there’s not really much he can do.

“I’ll have to tell him,” Satoru whispers and Shoko hums.

“That sucks,” she says and that’s the understatement of the year. “I know it’s not much but you can come here to get smashed afterwards if you want,” she then offers and Satoru knows how jealously she hoards her alcohol so for her to offer this, he must really be in deep shit.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mutters and turns back around to the door. “I’ll go destroy the best thing in my life now, then,” he adds on and while it sounds overdramatic, that is exactly how it feels to him.

But there’s no way around it—he already knew that before he came to Shoko—and he just has to be a big boy and get it over with.

He makes his way over to Suguru’s room, dragging his feet a bit, but he still arrives at his door sooner than he’d like.

Satoru takes one deep breath before he knocks and then he shuffles unsurely around as he waits for Suguru’s call.

Instead of doing that, Suguru comes to the door himself, and Satoru flinches.

“Satoru? What’s wrong?” Suguru asks and of course something must be wrong because Satoru normally never knocks. He never needed to, he was always welcome to barge right in, but he knows that he’s going to lose that privilege as soon as he tells Suguru what’s going on, so he better starts behaving accordingly as soon as he can.

“Can I come in?” Satoru asks and Suguru’s face clouds over with worry.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks and then reaches out to take Satoru’s temperature. “Are you sick?”

“No. Suguru, can I come in?” he asks again and cherishes the way Suguru’s name feels in his mouth.

He’ll probably have to refer to him as Geto once this is all over and that alone is almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“You’re freaking me out,” Suguru says but he does step aside to let Satoru in.

“Sorry, I just—there’s something I have to tell you,” Satoru mutters and he can tell that his words do nothing to alleviate Suguru’s worries.

“Okay, spit it out then,” Suguru says once the door is closed behind Satoru and Satoru wrings his hands in front of his chest.

“I just want to start this off with the fact that I didn’t really mean to and I’m really very sorry. If that helps at all.”

“It would, maybe, if you could tell me just what exactly it is you did,” Suguru gives back and Satoru knows that there’s no way around this, that he has to come clean about this and yet he still stalls for a few more precious seconds.

A few seconds more where Suguru doesn’t hate him yet and Satoru hoards them as greedily as he can.

“I made a mistake,” he finally starts with and Suguru frowns.

“Okay. What kind of mistake?” he asks and Satoru starts to pace in his room.

“My mother called me today, and you know how talking with her always gets me,” he explains and Suguru nods, because it’s not news to him that talking to anyone from his family fucks Satoru a little bit up every time. “And she keeps pestering me about finding someone to settle down with and to preferably start producing heirs as soon as possible.”

“You’re not even eighteen yet,” Suguru interjects and Satoru shrugs, because that really has never mattered to his family.

If it were up to them he would probably already be a father, preferably a few times over, just in case they can have more overpowered Gojo’s.

“Not the point,” Satoru mutters.

“What is the point then?”

“The point is that I may have panicked?” he asks and then falls silent again, unable to find the words.

“And done what? Satoru, seriously, do I have to pull every word out of you?” Suguru wants to know, clearly getting impatient now and Satoru takes a deep breath before he finally spills it all.

“I may have blurted out that I’m already seeing someone, but that I wasn’t ready to tell them yet, just so she would get off my back, but of course she didn’t and instead pestered me to know who it was and her guesses were getting increasingly disturbing so I eventually just blurted out that I’m seeing you.”

He doesn’t dare to look at Suguru, doesn’t want to know what kind of face he’s making at hearing that and he’s sure that the yelling is going to start any moment now.

Instead Suguru stays quiet. Eerily so.

“Suguru?” Satoru finally asks and when he looks at Suguru he’s not prepared for the crestfallen look he sees on his face.

“Why would you do that?” Suguru asks, his voice barely above a whisper and he looks so hurt that Satoru feels like the scum of the earth, knowing he was the one to put that look on his face.

He would have preferred anger, he thinks.

“I just—I panicked. I didn’t think.”

“How is that the first thing you can come up with, though? Shoko is right there. Why did it have to be me?”

“Maybe—” Satoru starts and then decides to fuck it. Suguru is going to hate him one way or another, so it’s probably best to put it all out there. “Maybe because it was the first thing I thought of.”

“But why?” Suguru demands to know again and Satoru locks his eyes with.

“Because it’s something I wish was true, so I couldn’t think of anything—anyone—else,” he admits and then waits for the unavoidable anger that’s sure to follow his words.

“You—want me to be your boyfriend?” Suguru mutters and Satoru shrugs.

“Yeah. I have, for a long time. I know how you feel about that, though, so I get it. I know you must be mad, I know you must be disgusted. And I wish I could change it, I wish I could take it all back, but things with my family are not quite that easy and they are not going to ignore this. I expect them to contact you some time this week, so I thought it’s best to warn you before that.”

“Wait, hold on, stop,” Suguru rushes out and holds up his hands as if that could force Satoru’s words to a stop. “What do you mean, you’ve felt that way for a long time?”

“Just that. I’ve been in love with you for months now, Suguru. What else do you want me to say?”

“But you never said anything!”

“Right,” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh. “You think I am that eager to get rejected? I know how you feel about that, I’ve seen the way you react to people assuming this about us, so I always knew I had no chance at all. But I didn’t think with my mother, and now it’s all fucked up.”

“How I feel about that?”

“Suguru, please, can we just skip ahead to the point where you yell at me and tell me to get out and never come back? I can’t do this,” Satoru begs him, because he’s not a fan of dragging the inevitable out like this but he was not prepared for the way Suguru steps forward and takes his hands in his.

“Satoru, I love you,” Suguru says and it’s so out of left field that Satoru doesn’t even understand what’s happening.

“You’re mad at me,” he gives back and watches how Suguru shakes his head, his hair flying.

“I’m not, gods, I’m not! Satoru, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“But you—that can’t be, you always yelled at people who assumed things about us,” Satoru mutters out, because he wasn’t imagining that. “Even Shoko knows that you’re going to kick me out of your life for this, that’s how much you hate the notion of a romantic relationship with me.”

“Fuck, that’s so not true,” Suguru rushes out. “I’m sorry it came across like that! It’s just—whenever people assumed that I was so hurt because it wasn’t true and there was no way in hell that you’d ever feel that way about me, so I got defensive.”

“What do you mean, I’d never feel that way?”

“I just mean—what would you ever see in me?” Suguru asks and squeezes Satoru’s hands. “I thought I had no chance. I’m not from a big clan, I am nothing special, so why would you ever feel that way about me?”

“Because you’re Suguru,” Satoru gives back as if that explains everything and to him it does.

Suguru is Suguru and that’s why Satoru loves him.

“I didn’t know,” Suguru mutters and rests their foreheads together. “Satoru, I didn’t know. I never would have expected this.”

“So—you’re not mad,” Satoru has to say, because it still makes little sense to him what is happening.

“I’m not mad. I’m overjoyed. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Really?” Satoru has to ask to make sure.

“Really,” Suguru immediately gives back. “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

“It’s not as if I ever said anything to make you think you have a chance, apparently,” Satoru replies even though he wonders how that can be, but maybe that’s a conversation for a later point.

“But I know better now,” Suguru says and tilts his head to brush a kiss over Satoru’s lips. “Boyfriend.”

The word makes Satoru all tingly and he can’t help the big smile that breaks out on his face.

“Boyfriend,” he agrees and dives right in for a real kiss. “I like how that sounds.”

“Me, too,” Suguru admits and when he pulls Satoru in for a bone-crushing hug, he goes easily.

They stay like that for a long time and even though Satoru knows that there will have to be at least one more conversation to be held about this—at least about the expectations his clan will have for Suguru—he thinks that all of that can wait because there’s no power out there that could make him pull away from Suguru at that moment.

Or ever again, but he thinks it might be a little bit too soon to admit that as well. Small steps, he thinks, and buries his face in the crook of Suguru’s neck. He already has what he wants in his arms after all. Everything else can come later.

#bt writes #june of doom 2024 #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #misunderstandings #getting together #not actually unrequited love #first kiss #love confessions #hurt/comfort

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ursemma · 2 days

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"I'll always love you" Pt 4 (final)

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Mattheo Riddle × y/n

Theodore nott × y/n (ex)

Warning: fighting, tension, Theodore being a dick, jealousy, angst.

Summary: after your first day in London, you thought you'll make it through the wedding without any drama, well fate has different plans for you I guess.

"it's Theodore, darling" I answered Mattheo as I felt his hands sliding on my waist, "hey nice to meet you, I'm Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle, y/n's boyfriend". He greeted Theodore while emphasizing on the word boyfriend.

"Oh hi, I'm Theodore, I was just here to invite you both to the bonfire, I'll take my leave now." Theodore said while his eyes wondering between me and Matty.

"sure we'll be there!" I answered him before shutting the door.

"you might wanna get dressed Mr Riddle, wouldn't want anyone to see you like this would you?" I said while throwing his clothes at him, instead of taking them he back hugged me and whispered in my ear, "what's the point of wearing them if you are gonna remove them anyway?." "well as much as I'd like to grant you your wishes, I think my friends are waiting for us, so go hushh and wear your clothes." I said while pushing him inside the bathroom before he could protest.

We all sat down in circle and everyone was laughing and chit chatting, suddenly Enzo asked us a question, "so tell us about how you and Mattheo hit off." I looked at everyone who were looking at me with teasing eyes, except for that one couple who were rather looking at me as if I was about to reveal a scandal.

"well we both met at a bar." I replied with shrug not wanting to expose the real events that had happened between us.

It looks like Mattheo got the hint and continued "yeah, she was drinking and I asked her for a drink, after aloot of efforts she finally gave in. We chat and got know eachother and then I asked her out on the next day. Pretty cliche i know, but we're old school so it works for us." I grinned at his response and everyone was teasing us.

The night went on smoothly and soon we were in our bed sleeping soundly while cuddling eachother.

The next day arrived quickly and, today we had to do two tasks, first shopping for bridesmaid dress, and second decorations.

Me and Mattheo had arrived at the mall for my dress, he was judging my dresses, and I was doing a fashion show for him.

I had my 20th dress on, and it seems like Mattheo didn't liked it, again.

I took a deep frustrated sigh and said, "well if you don't like my outfit go ahead and pick up a dress for me by yourself!" "Okay" he said with a shrug and went to find a dress for me.

While he was looking for the dress I saw a male employee approaching me, "hey I just wanted to say, you're beautiful." He said while looking at me, "thankyou so much!" I replied.

"i was wondering if you'd like to have a coffee with me?" He asked me and I was surprised, i don't know what to answer.

And before I could reply Mattheo came with a gorgeous Emerald green dress in his hands. "Here I found this." He spoke plainly. Weird.

"I hope I get an answer soon." That employee said in hope before walking away.

"that's gorgeous Matty!" I took the dress and tried it on, it looked beautiful. I nervously walked out of the trial room and Mattheo and I made an eye contact, "you- you look beautiful." He said while checking me out, "thank you, so this is it?" I asked him and he said "yes it's perfect".

We got the dress and sat inside the car, the car was silent which was unusual, Mattheo didn't even sing a song with me. I was hurt, I wonder what happened to him.

We were decorating the wedding venue on our own because we wanted it to be special. Mattheo still hasn't spoke a word to me.

"Mattheo." I whispered to him but recived no answer, I tried 2 times more, but instead of replying to me, he was going to walk away, so I grabbed his wrist quickly and pulled him towards me, "talk to me." I said and before he could reply we heard a loud bang.

Every one turned around to see Theodore throwing a box on the ground.

"what's wrong with you!!" Astoria yelled at him, "you know what? She. That's what's wrong with me!" He shouted while pointing at me.

Gasping i said "what did I did to you?!" He looked at me with mix emotions and said, "i married to Daphne because I thought was over you, but no! Then you had to show up here with your boyfriend having the happy ending while I suffer in silent!" "It's not my fault okay? And don't you dare to put the blame on me, you caused the misunderstanding Theodore! And then when I left you, you didn't even came back to me for second chance! And after a month of waiting for you, I get the invitation to your marriage! I thought you changed Theodore, i really thought, but today you proved me wrong just like you always did, And trust me after what is happening now, I regret ever loving you!" Before he could speak Mattheo replied, "hey man I don't know what's wrong with you, but whatever it is sort it by yourself, for whatever you did you have no one to blame it on, especially not my girlfriend. t's on you, you did it to yourself. And don't you dare to raise your voice at her. She's happy with me and I assure you she will be. Get your ass out of my relationship and her life."

Theodore left after what Mattheo said to him and i rushed to bathroom. I couldn't take it anymore. At first he was ignoring me and now he's acting like he actually cares.

I broke down while looking into the mirror and someone opened the door, i didn't need to take a look to know who was it, I knew it was Mattheo by his perfume.

"get out." I told him because I didn't wanted to speak to him.

"you're not doing this." He said while coming closer, "oh so you get to ignore me the entire afternoon and evening and i can't ignore you?" I spoke while scoffing at him, at his hypocrisy.

"I had my reasons" he said. "I wanna know them then. Because you know what I can't stand it anymore! You don't get to ignore me Mattheo then stand up for myself! You don't get to leave me lingering with questions about what if you don't want me anymore! You don't get to leave me doubted about who we are! I don't even know what to say to the guys who i turned down when they ask me if I have a boyfriend! You don't get play with my feelings Mattheo! You don't get to tell me you love me and then leave me questioning if you actually mean it!" I couldn't hold it anymore so I confronted him finally.

"I know, love, I know, and I have answers to your each and every question, I ignored you because I was jealous. I don't know what took over me but when the guy at the mall asked you out i couldn't help but feel jealous at the thought of you going on a date with someone who's not me. and I want you, today, tomorrow and everyday, I'll always want you. And I didn't mean to play with your feelings, I was just too afaird of saying mine that it unintentionally happened and I'm sorry for that, and whenever I said I love you, i really meant it. And as for who we are, I really want you to be my wife. But for now we'll take things slow, so y/n l/n, will you make me the luckiest man ever by being my girlfriend, a real one?" He looked at me with teary eyes as he said each and every word of it.

"do you really mean it?" I asked him with confusion, "I do, i really do" he spoke with sincerity, I laughed and screamed yes.

We both went back to do the remaining decoration and saw everyone there except the Daphne and Theodore.

"hey we're really sorry for that" Blaise spoke with shame all over his face, "hey it's okay and it's not your fault, i really thought he changed but I guess he didn't." I reassured him.

After the decoration we went to sleep, and i couldn't help but think about tomorrow.

The wedding was finally happening, I saw Astoria walking down the aisle with her father, and Draco with teary eyes looking at her.

I felt Mattheo's hot breath on my neck as he spoke, "one day this would be us, you'll walk down the aisle and I'll be looking at you with happy tears in my eyes." I felt him back hugging me and i couldn't help but smile at his words while thinking about our wedding.

The wedding ended with Draco and Astoria kissing eachother.

She threw her wedding bouquet and i was the one who caught it, I looked at Mattheo in suprise and he hugged me and knelt down on his knees, "I know it's too soon for a engagement ring, so I bought you a promise ring, y/n, i promise to love and cherish you till the day I die, will you promise me to do the same and marry me one day?" "Yess Mattheo yess!" I hugged him with tears in my eyes and everyone cheered for us, Astoria and Draco walked towards us and said, "well y/n/n you did for your fairy tale happily ever after, I'm so happy for you honey." She hugged me and i hugged her back, "I got mine out of a fairy tale book, but you tori! You got it straight out of a fanfiction, the nerdy girl × spoiled playboy! Who would've thought!" "Hey I'm right here!" Draco spoke and we all did a group hug.

This was the begining of a new start, for which I was really excited.

✧The end✧

The story finally comes to an end~ please make sure to comment if you like it or not and do give me suggestions and recommendations for next story!

Love you all

Xoxo~

Taglist:

@hoeforvinniehackerrr @jetblackpayne @dracygf @koolkelsey

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heart-ripping · 2 days

Text

Bound by Duty.

pairing: Regina Mills (The Evil Queen) X Reader

summary: your forced marriage to the mayor of storybrooke.

words: 1335 words, 7406 characters.

warnings: husband!regina, wife!reader, forced marriage, fluff, soft regina.

another one for the hungry ladies.

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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the small town of Storybrooke. The streets were quiet, and the air was heavy with an uneasy calm. In the grand old mansion at the town's center, preparations for a wedding were in full swing.

You stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back at you. The white gown you wore was beautiful, adorned with lace and pearls, but it felt like a shroud, suffocating you. Your hands trembled as you adjusted the veil, your heart pounding in your chest.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. Your mother entered, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. "My dear, it's time," she said quietly.

You swallowed hard, nodding. You knew this day was coming, and had known it for months, yet it still felt like a bad dream. You were being married off to Regina Mills, a woman twice your age, to settle your family's debts. It was a tradition as old as the town itself, a custom you had always hoped would die before it reached you.

Your mother took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You are doing this for our family. Remember that."

You forced a smile, though it didn't reach your eyes. "I know, Mother."

The walk down the aisle felt like an eternity. The faces of friends and neighbors blurred together, and their expressions were a mixture of pity and approval. You felt their eyes on you, judging, sympathizing, but none of them truly understood the weight you bore. At the end of the aisle stood Regina Mills, tall and imposing, her face a mask of calm.

The ceremony began, the officiant’s voice a dull hum in your ears. You focused on breathing, trying to steady yourself. You glanced at Regina Mills, seeing the lines of age and responsibility etched into her face. She was a woman respected by the town, a pillar of the community, but to you, she was a stranger.

"Do you, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the officiant asked.

Your throat tightened. You forced the words out, your voice barely a whisper. "I do."

"And do you, Regina, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Regina replied, her voice firm and steady.

"You may now kiss the bride."

You braced yourself as Regina lifted your veil. Her kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, but it felt like the final seal on your fate. Applause erupted around you, a cacophony of approval and celebration, but to you, it was just noise.

The reception was a blur of forced smiles and polite conversations. You moved through it all like a ghost, accepting congratulations and well-wishes with a numb detachment. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself alone in the garden, seeking solace among the flowers. The night was cool, the air filled with the scent of roses and jasmine. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

You turned to see Regina standing behind you. She looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. "Yes, it is," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped closer, her presence both comforting and intimidating. "Look, I know this isn't easy for you. It's not easy for me either. But I want us to try. I want us to find a way to make this work."

You looked up at her, searching her eyes for any hint of sincerity. You saw a flicker of it, buried beneath the layers of duty and expectation. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. "Okay. Let's try to make the best of it."

Regina smiled, a real one this time, and for the first time that day, You felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead was uncertain, but perhaps, together, you both could find a way to navigate it.

The days turned into weeks, and you slowly began to adjust to your new life. The mansion, once a symbol of your confinement, started to feel a bit more like home. Regina was kind and patient, giving you the space you needed while also trying to bridge the gap between you two.

She would often find you in the library, lost in a book, and sit with you, sharing stories of the town and her experiences as mayor. You listened, slowly opening up about your own dreams and fears. You both found common ground in your love for literature and a shared desire to make a difference in the community.

One evening, as you both sat by the fireplace, Regina handed you a worn leather-bound journal. "This was my mother's," she explained. "She used to write in it every day. I thought you might like to read it."

You took the journal, feeling the weight of its history. You opened it carefully, reading the elegant script of a woman you had never met. The entries were filled with thoughts, dreams, and reflections on life in Storybrooke. As you continue to read, you felt a connection to Regina's mother, a woman who had also navigated the complexities of responsibility and power.

"Thank you," You said softly, looking up at Regina. "This means a lot to me."

Regina smiled, her eyes warm. "I'm glad. I want you to feel at home here, My love. I want you to know that you're not alone."

As the weeks turned into months, your bond grew stronger. You worked together on various community projects, finding joy in making a positive impact on the town. You began to see a different side of Regina, a woman dedicated to her people, willing to listen and learn.

One day, while you were visiting her son's school, Henry, Regina watched as you interacted with the children, your laughter filling the air. She realized how much she had come to care for you, not just as her wife, but as a partner and a friend.

That evening, she took your hand as you walked through the garden. "Darling, I know our marriage didn't start the way either of us wanted, but I've come to cherish the time we've spent together. You've brought so much light into my life."

You felt a lump in your throat. "Regina, I—"

Regina stopped, turning to face you. "I want us to be more than just a duty to each other. I want us to build a life together, to find happiness in this marriage. Will you give us a chance?"

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at her, seeing the sincerity in her gaze. You realized that somewhere along the way, you had started to care for her too. "Yes, Regina. I'll give us a chance."

Your relationship blossomed from that moment on. You supported each other through challenges, celebrated successes, and found comfort in each other's presence. The mansion no longer felt like a prison, but a home filled with love and laughter.

Years later, as you both sat on the porch watching the sunset, You rested your head on Regina's shoulder. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

She kissed your forehead, her heart full. "Yes, we have. And I wouldn't change a thing."

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. You had entered this marriage out of duty, but you had found something far more precious. You had found a partner, a friend, and a love that had grown through understanding and patience.

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, You whispered a silent promise to yourself: you would continue to make the best of this marriage, not just for your family, but for the love that had blossomed between you and Regina. It was a new beginning, and together, you both forged a path filled with hope and happiness.

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#regina mills x reader #regina mills #evil queen #evil queen x reader #ouat #lgbt #lesbian #ouat imagine #regina mills fanfiction #once upon a time #lana parrilla

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britishchick09 · 4 months

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i've been itching to write the second rewrite book (an erik mystery!) but i'm still working on his pov story... that one will take a while to get done and i'm excited to move the story forward! (at least partially!) :D

(and unlike the last poll, i'll actually do the result!) ;)

#my fate is in your hands for real this time!#seeing the next chapter is more important than seeing it over again #and this book could help in writing the pov story! ;)#i might do (gasp!) writing goals to get it done faster! :o #i've never done that before but it could help!#but we won't know what'll happen until tomorrow... ;)#poto rewritten

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kakusu-shipping · 1 year

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I’m kinda insecure about one of my f/o’s because, 1. He’s a teenager (and I’m an adult), and 2. He’s kind of a meme character. I’m worried people will think I ship myself with him as a joke, but I’m not. I really, really like him!

This is the Internet and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks ever.

Well that's my go to response anyway, but I do understand the hesitation, especially with a canon minor character, feels like you gotta dance around certain people for that, and it makes the whole thing feel kinda exhausting. Though I'll say, it's probably not as scary as you think it is, it's easy to fall into this hole on the internet that if you make even the slightest misstep people will scream for your head, but it's really not that bad, I promise. Maybe I'm just lucky though, or off most people's radar.

The other half though, the worry people think you're self shipping with them as a joke? Honestly, if people think that, it's probably fine all things considered? Like I get it kinda sucks not being taken seriously, kinda hurts, but at the end of the day your F/O knows you're serious, and you know you're serious, and that's what matters.

Every character is someone's unironic Fictional Other. There are people out there who'd unironically want to Marry Shrek, or Nagito Komeda, or Sans Undertale and the Oncler together. And like!!! Good For Them!!! I love that for them!!! Shrek and Sans love them back!!

So if you're comfortable with it, take a deep breath, and love loud.

#Self Ship #Proship self ship #Proselfship #Honestly I keep temping fate but like #I have Never. Not a once. Gotten a mean anon for my shit #I've gotten a handful of 'Is this real' comments that I just delete #And one DM from an artist telling me my art isn't for them (blocked instantly of course)#But other than that if you just. Mind your business and sail your own ship #It's actually really easy to avoid people who'd get on you for something silly like the age of your FO #As for the meme side I wouldn't worry too much about that #You know I have Zack Binspin Moshi Monsters on my F/O list #And yeah the first time I talked about him basically everyone in my server made fun of me for him #(I think they meant it lightheartedly)#And it kinda sucked but like #There's been an ask sitting in my ask box for a few months now #From another person who ALSO has Moshi Monsters self ships #There's always like minded people and there's always someone who'll take you at your word #I'll be one of those people for you if you'd like to tell me some day!#Until then! Do your best to Love Loudly!#And even if you can't. Even if you're still hesitating or scared. Your F/O loves you all the same #You've got this!#I believe in you!#Do Whatever You Want Forever

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septembersghost · 1 year

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me watching any piece of media ever made: how can i make the thesis here about the wondrous, fulfilling, frightening, destroying, restorative, glimmering thrall of, and tragic inevitability of grief within, any and every form of love?

elvis (2022): *very first thing we hear* oh, let our love survive... *later*: love song i've known since childhood used in a dark, ominous way and a desperately tender one: some things are meant to be. take my hand, take my whole life too, for i can't help falling in love... *later still*: it was love. *last*: i need your love...

ah. okay. so you just made my job too easy. i don't even have to search for it. thank you. guess i'll go insane.

#if you need the short explanation #joanna newsom: a little shade of grief comes in when love is its most real version.#then it contains death inside of it and then that death contains love inside of it.#i want to write so much but 99% of you are not here for this and think i have well and truly lost it and that's fair #what's so funny is it's exactly what happened with moulin rouge two decades ago #christian: a story about a time; a story about a place; a story about the people.#but above all things: a story about love. a love that will live forever.#younger me: thank you. guess i'll go insane!#and it predates that considerably. i have countless examples. it's so funny HOW predictable i am and have been since the age of about seven #okay i have to go to bed i'm destroying my body with sleep deprivation 😭 i'll be back for more derangement later #elvis #i was a dreamer #sail on silver girl; sail on by #it starts as OUR love because it's already telling us it's shared. we're a part of this now #and then can't help falling is like: do we find what we love or does it find us? is this fate or could one thing have been different #if one thing had been different would everything be different today #does it matter even though it's already done? (yes) if you reach out your hand to the sense of that love how does it affect your life?#(and on a personal level for me: you heard but you didn't listen carefully enough. the door was always open)#i'll be coming home. *wait* for me.#then the conclusion is it's love it was always love. but from the person who doesn't even understand that #so we have to take it to heart differently. time goes by so slowly and TIME CAN DO SO MUCH. are you still mine?#time transforms and time provides distance but time can also give clarity #and then it's an entreaty and a prayer: i need your *love*. i *need* your love. godspeed your love to me.#it's never not needed and it's never not valuable and it's never not new and it's never not fate and grief and light and spirit.#you can run and run and always land back home. you can hurt and triumph and break and always find your love. even if it's yours alone.#it's yours baby and no one can take it away from you #put me in the heart locket i'm done

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honestsycrets · 11 months

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starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

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ozzgin · 25 days

Note

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere vampire #vampire x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend

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sytoran · 8 months

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟔 — 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

kinktober day 006 | roommate!natasha x werewolf!reader

despite your countless pleads for natasha to stay away during the full moon, she decides to brave the beast and be right by your side during your transformation. she gets a lot more than what she bargained for.

cont. reader has a cock, (very) rough sex, breeding, creampie

word count. 2063

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

“Natasha, you can’t stay here during my transformation,” you plead, grasping your roommate’s hand in yours.

The brunette is adamant, looking up at you with a stubbornly steely gaze. “I’m staying, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

You wring your hands in exasperation, somewhere near tearing your hair out in frustration or crying in anger. “You’re not listening to me, Nat. It’s not just the pain. I become a different being altogether, and you just can’t see me like that.”

“I can, and I will,” she stubbornly says, folding her arms over her chest and mistakably pushing her cleavage up, too.

The tips of your ears burn at seeing Natasha so utterly bratty.

You bite your tongue, refusing to argue with Natasha even more. Keeping you safe was one thing, but the real reason to steer Natasha away from you during the full moon was to keep her safe.

Because when you’re in your werewolf form, your true desires get heightened by a thousandfold, and from the way you already feel about Natasha, you’re worried it might implode when it comes to your inner beast.

As the Gods of Fate have it out for you, the full moon comes earlier than expected.

Your first agonized cry comes when Natasha’s still in the shower.

“Y/N!” Natasha calls out your name, once, haphazardly scrambling to wrap a towel around herself and sprint to the room where your cries are coming from.

The sight that greets her is absolutely horrific.

You’re bent over, on the floor of your room, on all fours and spitting out blood. Your back is bent at an inhuman angle, your spine broken.

“......Y/N?” Natasha’s voice shook, rooted to the spot in sheer terror.

You don’t respond. You’re in a state of little awareness, or so it seems, a low grunt of pain and fury escaping from you as your transformation continues.

Natasha takes in a deep breath and steps into the room.

She wants to reach out, hold your hand, tell you that it’s going to be fine but she knows it’s not. The sounds of excruciating pain, broken bones, and surpassed limits make Natasha weep for you on the inside, knowing that you have to go through this painstaking process every month.

The transformation seems to be slowing down, now. Your human blood is splattered across the walls of your room, but your werewolf form seems to be perfectly healthy. You’re still more human than wolf, though: your muscles had thickened and were iron-hard, and you were taller than before.

However, your wolfish eyes that survey the room are bloodshot red and absolutely inhuman.

That gaze is a chilling scene, narrowed eyes and steady puffs of air surveying the room. Your slow yet calculated mannerisms are reminiscent of your human form.

Natasha hasn’t quite yet caught your eye, but when she does, it’s like a predator has found its prey.

Your red eyes are like lit coals and smoking silver, surveying Natasha with every ounce of authority and a near possesiveness.

“Natasha.”

Time stills, and the sound of your haunting voice reverberates around the four walls of your room.

Natasha truly can’t help but let out the tiniest whimper of fear. And perhaps a little something more.

“Y/N,” Natasha says your name again, because it seems to be the only thing capable of falling from her lips, and she swallows harshly at your predatory behaviour. She presses into the wall, one hand clutching the top of her towel, the other finding purchase in the edge of your cupboard.

When you begin to move closer, Natasha screws her eyes shut, anticipating what was to come. Your presence looms over her, metaphorically and physically, and Natasha waits for her inevitable demise.

The ‘inevitable demise’ never happens.

Instead, Natasha’s eyes flutter open slowly to your huge hands gently wrapping around her torso, a sharp nose burying itself into the crook of her neck.

The whine she lets slip is involuntary. Your close proximity undermines her calm composure, regardless of your way, shape, or form. If that was telling of her feelings towards you, Natasha would choose to play oblivious.

You’re supposed to be scary, and Natasha’s supposed to be terrified, but with the way you’re dragging your nose up and down the column of Natasha’s slender neck, inhaling her sweet scent, she hardly considers her heart to be beating steadily.

She’s intoxicated by you, even more so with your unabashed exploration of Natasha’s neck. The redhead might be grasping at straws, but it’s almost like you’re seeking something. Something from Natasha. Comfort, perhaps?

“You’re okay,” the redhead whispers, fingers combing through your fur in comforting motions. She hears something that sounds suspiciously like a purr of satisfaction, so she repeats that motion.

Your head moves from her pale neck to her pretty collarbones and down her cleavage until your nose hits the obstruction of Natasha's towel.

A low rumble of disgruntlement sounds from somewhere deep in your chest. Natasha lets a full-body shudder take its hold of her body, under the vibrations of your low decibels.

Not comfort, then. What was it?

Almost like you could read Natasha’s inner thoughts, your werewolf form decides to say capre diem and let a huge hand slither up the inside of your roommate’s bare thigh.

Natasha squeals and swats your hand away, instinctively, then she catches herself and her eyes go wide.

Oh.

The fire that dances in your eyes is nothing short of a human-like mischief, playful and oh so dangerous. The incarnadine flush that adorns Natasha’s cheeks like a flower blossoming in the spring is one that your werewolf greedily soaks up, pulling her body flush against yours.

You can see the moment realization hits Natasha, the moment she realizes your desires are nothing short of sinful.

“Want,” you enunciate slowly, stately and unyielding. Your eyes are locked onto hers, gleaming.

Expectant. Possessive. Knowing.

The grasp of your hand on her inner thigh once again has Natasha letting out a breathy moan, one of pleasure and a startling realisation.

It wasn’t comfort. It was sex.

-----

If Natasha knew that werewolves were this fucking astronomical at sex, she would’ve introduced supernatural creatures into her bed a long time ago.

The position she’s in is nothing short of embarrassing, on all fours, grasping at the headboard like it was her lifeline.

Perhaps it was, truthfully, because with the ferocity of the thrusts of your Herculean-sized werewolf cock into her pussy from behind was worthy of being sent to the afterlife. Not like Natasha would complain, though.

“Oh- mhmmm, n’more, s’too much,” Natasha slurs, her breasts shaking rhythmically with each time your jerk that massive thing into her, velvet walls squeezing tight around your pulsing cock. Her eyes are threatening to roll back, drool already spilling from the sides of her lips, arousal already leaking from her thighs and on to the bed.

You don’t seem to give a damn about the messiness of it, though, and that could perhaps be linked to the scientific nature of more barbaric animals. But Natasha could ponder over animal studies at a later point in time, for now she was being treated like a fuckdoll, and it was midblowingly gratifying.

“All– the way,” you grunt, trying to shove the entirety of your huge cock into Natasha’s pussy, clearly displeased by the fact that you were struggling to be sealed inside the redhead completely and inescapably.

It shouldn’t have been a problem because she was already so wet, so pliant, so perfect for the taking. You’d make do with what you had, though.

“It’s too big,” Natasha had whined earlier, gasping as your tip stretched her opening out, the biggest thing she’d ever taken in her life. Her grasp on the headboard tightened as you slid in with a cruel impatience, big hands digging into the soft flesh of her ass.

“I’ll… make it fit,” you reply, somewhat slowly, your speech clearly deterred by your transformation into part-animal. The results of it are undeniably effective, nonetheless, the cockiness of your brash words making arousal pool in Natasha’s hips.

You’ve reached a sweet spot of Natasha’s, and her walls clench around your big cock tightly, mewling as you push its head against her sponginess.

“Right there, please, please, plea-” Natasha is cut off by one of her own moans when you jerk inside her, spurred on by the sheer tightness she’s providing you.

When you lean down to entrap Natasha in a breeding press, your bigger body engulfing her smaller one, slick and sweat converging in an unholy sacrament, it’s all over for her.

Going weak in the knees, Natasha moans as her arms give out and her front flops into the bed. The results of this lie in the fact that her back becomes beautifully arched, her ass rising towards the ceiling; your wolfish eyes drink the sight in with a lick of your lips, cock twitching at the prospect of all the new angles you’d be able to reach.

An animalistic prowess takes mighty hold over your sentience, triggering a feral craze to wash over your werewolf form, and it takes mere seconds before you ram your cock back inside Natasha’s wrecked cunt with undying fervour.

The warbled sounds the girl lets out beneath goes unheard, muffled by the pillow, but the sheer slickness of her pretty pussy gives a certain confirmation that she was enjoying it as much as you did.

Not that your werewolf would care much, anyways: What it was chasing was pleasure, seeking relief in the completely sexual sense, a carnal desire to take and to breed and to claim.

You push yourself in hilt-deep inside Natasha, fully lodged in, skin against skin.

Instinctively, your hands fly to Natasha’s belly. You can feel your cock bulge there, spreading her out, filling her up.

The next series of your thrusts cause Natasha to make noises she’s never made before, her body moving like clay under your touch.

You pull out and make her sob, then thrust all the way back in with an unbridled strength that leaves Natasha breathless. Then again, and again, until she cums helplessly around your cock, pulsing and throbbing and alight with nerves.

This is not the side of you Natasha’s grown to know and love. There are no gentle smiles, no soft hugs and whispered words of admiration. It’s completely animalistic, entirely pleasure-chasing, undeniably one-sided.

You’re thrusting into her like she’s your personal fuckdoll, bringing her to high after high, but you don’t even seem to register that fact. You’re using her for your pleasure, and it should be wrong, but…

“More! More, please, please, need another,” Natasha sobs into the pillow, every fibre of her body screaming at her to stop but her brain unable to put it into action. She hardly registers what she’s saying, only begging pathetically and dripping endlessly.

“Inside,” you growl, right next to her ear, sharp teeth grazing her earlobe. Natasha babbles her acknowledgement, even more turned on at the prospect of being filled, fuck it, and the orgasm that crashes over the both of you is heaven-like.

Natasha’s scream of your name reverberates for miles to come.

With that, you’re cumming, finally, and the seed that spills out from you is endless. Natasha drools into the pillow as you unload your cum inside her, gripping fistfuls of her ass pressed flush against your hips.

“Mine,” you hear yourself say. The helplessly, pathetically aroused tone of your voice nearly makes Natasha weep again — she’s rendered a damn werewolf near speechless.

Streams of white fluid spray onto Natasha’s back once you’re done with her cunt. You manhandle her around to face the front, to find her pretty eyes rolled to the back of her head, drool coating her lips.

Your werewolf heaves as you watch as your seed overflows from her pretty pussy and on to her thick thighs. A perfect creampie.

Your werewolf, however, has different plans, feeling your cock stiffen again at the sight of her ruined pussy.

-----

The next morning, you wake up with a throbbing feeling between your legs.

Shit. Was it my transformation?

You leap out of bed, yanking the covers off—

To reveal a very naked Natasha Romanoff, your best friend and your roommate.

She awakes with a start, blinking at the light, and then wincing as if her body was aching all over.

“.......Nat?” you ask hesitantly, eyes trailing over her marked thighs and tits. “What happened last night?”

“Okay. Don’t panic, but you’re fathering my children.”

finally catching up on fics!! i did spend significantly longer on this fic, so it would be highly appreciated if you could reblog

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #x reader

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studioghibelli · 5 months

Text

always yours- a joel miller x reader

summary: joel has carried guilt with him his entire life, especially after losing you many years ago. you were young and naive, and joel was cold and distant, a match that simply wasn’t meant to be. (so he thought.) when he and ellie finally make it to wyoming, he’s in for the surprise of a lifetime.

warnings: joel pov for a bit, pining, so so much pining, ellie and joel dynamics, a lot of angst, various flashbacks throughout the story, guilt is one of the main themes of this piece of writing, a rather large age gap that is the center of joel’s guilt, a very brief mention of joel having sex with another woman (tess), post outbreak, and of course- smut. (allusion to m receiving oral, brief female masturbation, unprotected sex, cream pie, f receiving oral, some dirty talk.) mdni

The smell of pine swirled lazily in the air, the promise of a fresh snowstorm making its way through the tree line like the wafting scent of slow baking cookies. The white ground crunched beneath Joel’s leather boots, imprinting the shadow of their soles into the thick wintered earth. With each step his bones ached, shoulders heavy with the fate of the world.

Behind him, a figure trucked lazily behind, giggles occasionally filling his ears.

“What’re you up to back there?”

“Hey, hey. Check this one out, Joel. Why did the can crusher quit his job?” There was a long moment of silence. “Because it was….. soda pressing. Ha! Get it?” Ellie jogged closer to Joel, nudging him with her elbow. “Do you- do you get it, Joel?”

A heavy grunt escaped the man. “Yeah, I get it.” A tooth pick hung loosely from his lips as he glanced down at the girl, a slow roll of his eyes following.

“Want to hear some more?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Okay. Okay… that’s fine.” Ellie cleared her throat, humming as she took in the world around her. “I do have something on my mind. Something real heavy.”

Joel looked at her, his eyes glossed over with a hint of concern. “What is it?”

“Last week I….I-” Ellie paused, sniffling a bit, feigning a look of guilt. “Last week I called someone a watering hole, but I swear I meant well!”

Joel stopped, his jaw clenching momentarily before he met the gaze of Ellie who, in the midst of her terrible joke, was choking back a roar of laughter. He sighed out, shoulder slacking, before giving in to the chuckle stuck in his throat.

“Okay, okay. That wasn’t half bad, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re laughing! I made you laugh! I know you liked that one.”

“I did. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Joel shook his head with the hint of a grin teasing against his mouth. “Now quit with the shitty jokes, alright? You’ll miss the scenery.”

Ellie saluted him sternly, giving him a thick nod. “Aye, aye, Captain!” She declared.

Joel sucked in a thick breath.

You were staring at him, with your big, beautiful eyes, gnawing on a stale, unseasoned piece of venison jerky. The flickering flames of the campfire in front of you illuminated your face with glimmering sheens of orange, blanketing the hue of your skin with crimson and gold. A sunset, personified.

He stared at you, long and hard, analyzing every inch of you, taking in your beauty. He wanted to drown in it. The softness of you lips, the apples of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose. Joel wondered how smooth your skin was, how the curve of your waist would feel against his calloused palms, how the heat of your breath would feel fanning against his throat. His eyes dragged down to your small hands, eyeing your manicured nails. What shape would they imprint upon his skin?

“Who the fuck made this shit, Joel?” You guffawed, rubbing your eye with your free fist. “I hate jerky. Tired of it!”

“Well, you’ve just never had good jerky. Before the end times, we had lots of good brands. Jack Link was pretty popular. Was my favorite.” Joel looked at you, a stray curl falling against his forehead as he set the paper bag down. “Ever heard of them?”

“No. Never. When…. all this happened, I was too young to remember. I’ve got no memories from that time, honestly.”

It was a simple statement. One that shouldn’t have made Joel’s stomach clench and turn. Yet it reminded him. It reminded him of his age, of your youth, your naïveté. His chest tightened with the deep feeling of wrongness, the bitter taste of guilt like bile in the back of his throat.

“Don’t, uh, don’t remind me.” Joel mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You, none the wiser to the war raging on in his mind, laughed sweetly, saluting him lazily as you finished the last of your venison jerky. “Aye, aye, captain!”

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

“Heyyyy!”

Joel’s neck snapped towards the noise, where Ellie stood still, leaning against the thick trunk of a pine tree. “Huh?”

“Dude, you were just standing there. Like a fuckin’ statue. You okay? I thought you were dying.”

Joel rubbed a scruffy cheek, the thick bristles of hair irritating his fingers as he stared into the distance, taking in a deep breath before resuming his walking. “I’m fine. Let’s jus’ keep goin’, onwards and upwards. Should be there in a day or so.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Ellie kicked a stray pebble in front of her, jogging every so often to meet the long strides of Joel.

In front of her, Joel was lost in deep thought.

He felt the ache of remorse tugging at his heart. A reminder it still worked. A reminder he was still human, still alive and breathing. A human, a man, who hoped and yearned and craved and cried. A man who loved. This remorse, this pain, this guilt, that had corroded away at his soul piece by piece, kept him stable and nailed to the ground. It was a nudge towards the idea that perhaps after all these years of killing, after the taste of blood and haze of destruction, perhaps his heart was still capable of something good, something right.

Joel thought he was right, when he did what he did. Even with the tsunami of tears threatening your eyes, even with the quivering of your lip, the tight furrow of your brows, the embarrassment on your face- even with the sheer look of pain and betrayal that you wore like a masquerade mask- Joel felt that what he did was for the best. That the line in the sand he carved with his own bare hands would help you in the end.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel warned, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t look at me like that, girl.”

“Why?” There was a shrill crack to your syllables, a dejected figure emerging from the shadows of your mouth. “Does it make you feel bad? Am I hurting your feelings?”

“This is worse enough as is. I don’t need you flashin’ them puppy dog eyes at me. Ain’t gonna change a thing.”

“So you just used me. Fucked my mouth until you got what you wanted. And now what, Miller? Now what? Gonna ignore me? Gonna start doin’ runs with Tess again like there was nothing between us?” Venom dripped from your incisors as you took a step towards him. Your tears, your sadness, the heavy weight of your heart had been replaced with rage. Burning hot rage. It consumed you until it was oozing from you, spilling from your eyes, your mouth, your nostrils. It was you.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m goin’ to do. ‘Cause you’re right, kid. There wasn’t shit between us.”

Ellie’s humming brought him back to reality, clearing his mind of any thoughts, before she broke the silence with a dreadful question:

“Did you ever have any girlfriends, back at the QZ in Boston?”

“Told you not to ask me any questions like that.”

“I know, I know. But it seems like things with you and…. with you and Tess were weird. I remember what she said, how she never asked you to feel what she felt.” Ellie cleared her throat, gripping ahold of the straps on her backpack. “But, you know, it got me thinking. If someone as cool as Tess liked an old fart like you, some other chicks would have had to, too. Right?”

Joel sighed a deep, tired sigh, rubbing at his temples. “Me and Tess…. we weren’t. We- just. No. Tess and I, there was nothing there.”

Ellie held her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Geez, no need to throw a bitch fit, asshole.”

“Watch it.” He grumbled, adjusting the strap of his rifle. “But there was one girl.”

“Really? What was she like? What was her name? What did she look like?”

“Slow down, Ellie, slow down. Way too many questions. I’ll answer one. One! So pick wisely.”

Ellie walked in silence for a moment, rubbing her cheeks in thought as though she had a beard. She nodded with a sense of finality, catching up with Joel’s long strides. “Why did you like her?”

Why did Joel like you? Why did he love you? What was so special about you that Joel, a man concrete in his stoicism, a man lost in his own selfish, distant ways, could crumble at the sheer thought of you? What was so special about your sparkling eyes that made his chest pound? What was so special about your soft voice that made his jaw slack? What was so special about your gentle touch that made his body shiver?

How could a giant such as Joel Miller come crashing down at the feet of someone like you? Someone so pure, so happy, so kind and thoughtful? How could Joel have ever let something like that happen? How could he have been such a fool?

“Hello? Earth to Joel.” Ellie waved her hand in front of Joel’s face, eliciting a groan.

“Um…” He scratched at his chin.

“When I was a little girl all I wanted, the one thing that mattered most to me in the world, was to go to the zoo. My momma used to tell me all these stories. How you could touch the stingrays, feed the giraffes… But you know what I want to see most of all? The gorillas.”

Joel was staring out the window, keeping watch as you shuffled through the drawers of the abandoned room, looking for extra stuff that could be worth smuggling. His eyes scanned the road, but he was mostly interested in listening to you. Quickly and slyly he turned to look at you.

He saw the glimmer glistening through your gaze, the smile lines crinkling ever so slightly at the corners of your eyes as your pretty lips turned up into a big grin. Your face was aglow with passion, your heart pinned proudly to your sleeve. You were the exact opposite of him when it came to that, it only drew him closer, like a moth to a flame.

“The zoo? I went to the zoo. Took my daughter all the time to the one in Austin. Never saw a gorilla though, not up close. Just on the Animal Planet.”

“Animal Planet?”

And there it was, that familiar twinge of guilt. “Yeah. It was a TV Channel.” Joel explained with a grimace, his voice soft and quiet. “You, uh, you find anything good yet?”

“Nah. Just a half empty box of condoms and some bandaids.”

“Condoms? We could use those.” Joel explained, turning to you quickly.

A look of surprise crept on to your face. You hoped you hid the butterflies erupting in your stomach well enough. Surely it was a slip of tongue, you thought- Joel was never forward like that.

Realization soon dawned on his face when his words finally settled in. “Not….. not us, I mean. For- for trading. Could get some ration cards. The, I mean- I would never be…. I- Uh.” A guttural noise of defeat escaped him as he slumped into the wall, groaning deeply against the palms of his hands that his face was now buried in. “Forget I said anything.” Joel seethed through gritted teeth.

“You sure do have a way with words, cowboy.” You teased. A beautiful laugh, one that haunted Joel, escaped your chest as you threw the box of condoms towards him. “There you go, lover boy.”

“Her laugh.” Joel finally broke the silence, his eyes secured to the track in front of him. “She was always laughing. Real happy, curious, always day dreaming. She was….”

“The exact opposite of you.” Ellie filled in, laughing to herself. “Man, she sounds great. And she liked you back?”

“I said one question a day.”

“But-”

“No buts. You can ask another one tomorrow.”

“Well, can you at least tell me her name?”

Before Joel could stop himself, the syllables of your name rolled from his tongue. He hadn’t spoken it out loud in years. He promised himself he wouldn’t, not after losing you. But it escaped him quicker than he could stop it, like a dog running from its cage, sniffing its way to freedom.

Ellie repeated it to herself. “That’s real pretty.” She hummed in approval, and Joel continued walking, his eyes stirring with the burning hot threat of tears.

Angry, regretful, bitter tears.

“Have you seen her anywhere?” Joel was pacing his room, frantically throwing supplies on to the bed. “Did she- did she say anything? Where she was going? What she was doing?”

“Joel.” Tess’ voice rang through the air. “Joel.”

“What? I need to get to her, God dammit.”

“She’s gone, Joel. Said she left four days ago. You won’t be able to find her.” Tess rested a hand on his shoulder as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking up at the disheveled, broken man before her.

“This is all my fault.” A single sob racked through his body as he fell down beside her. “Putting a gun to her head and pulling the trigger would have been the exact same thing. She’ll die out there, Tess.” Joel buried his face in his hands as he fell back, jaw clenching in unison with his flaring nostrils as he sat and stewed in the crashing waves of resentment. “She’s going to die, and I won’t be there to protect her.”

Teas traced her hand down the broadness of Joel’s back, taking in a sharp breath. “You’re right. Better move on now, we have work to do. If you’re going to get over it someday, you might as well do it now.” If there was one thing Tess wasn’t going to do, it was sugar coat things. Especially not for Joel fucking Miller. “So get up, stop crying, and do your fucking job. You got it?”

That night Joel drunkenly fucked Tess with her face in the pillow and ass in the air, and the whole time he imagined it was you.

Dusk was soon approaching by the time Joel had rolled out his and Ellie’s sleeping bags. The canvas of the sunset was being torn apart by sparkling stars, the moon illuminating the snow covered trees surrounding them. It was a quiet, peaceful night, shrouded with the sort of yearning and hope that only came once the sun set.

“Can we start a fire? Please, Joel?” Ellie was shivering beneath her sleeping bag, pulling her jacket tighter to her chest.

“Use my bag. I’ll take watch while you sleep.”

“We’ve been walking for like, a hundred hours. You need sleep too. Nobody will find us here. We’re in the middle of butt fuck nowhere.”

“You don’t know that. Now take my bag or stop whining.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he sat against the tree, the light of the lantern illuminating the hardness of his face.

“Okay, geez. Don’t have to be an asshole.”

“Go to sleep, Ellie.”

Joel hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He never liked sleeping, for many different reasons. The lack of control, the possibility of danger, the lurking nightmares about his past. But most of all, he hated sleeping because they brought him dreams of you.

In the beginning, when he had you, dreams of your body, or your face, of your voice- they were all welcomed. He would wake up in his mattress, bathing like a cat in the golden rays of sunshine, and would go about his day slightly less grumpy. Not a changed man, by any means, but how could a man be completely cold and detached after a visit from an angel?

But now these dreams were different. He would wake, not quite remembering them in their entirety, but always feeling the heavy burden of loss thick in his mouth, like phlegm during a nasty cold. For the rest of the day he would think of you, unable to shake the memory of your face away from his mind. You had branded him like a cow at the slaughterhouse.

Joel knew he was yours forever, always yours, despite the pitter pattering footsteps of guilt that followed him around like a needy child.

Tonight, he dreamed of his past memories with you.

“Oh, this is a good one.” Joel hummed out as he turned the record player up ever so slightly. “This is Nat King Cole. My mom used to play his stuff while she was cookin’.”

Sometimes I wonder how I spend the lonely night,

Dreaming of a song. The melody, haunts my reverie,

And I am once again with you, when our love was new.

“He’s got a nice voice.” You quipped. You swung your legs off the desk, walking towards him before extending your hand.

He looked at you like you were crazy. “What’re you doin’?”

“Dance with me.”

“Dancin’ is a dangerous game. I ain’t no good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. Come on. Just dance with me, cowboy!” Your giggles ignited the air with sparks of comfort, warming Joel’s body through with the familiar pang of affection he so often suffered from when he was around you. He thought on it for a moment before letting out a long sigh.

“Fine. But if you tell anyone about this I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Spank me? Come on, just live a little. If it was actually the end of the world none of us would be here. So be alive and human with me tonight, and dance.”

Joel stood, looking down at you as his hands found your body. He rested one palm against the small dip of your waist, his other finding your hand, quickly engulfing it, wrapping around your fingers like a blanket. You swayed, barely shuffling your feet, a smile of contentment washing across your face.

“See?” You hummed. “This is nice.”

He stayed silent, swaying with you to the crooning voice of Nat King Cole. Joel sucked in a sharp breath as your cheek rested against his chest. He ran his hand down to the small of your back, instinctively pulling you closer.

And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song,

Besides the garden wall when stars are bright,

You are in my arms, a paradise where roses grew

Though I dream in vain…

“Joel?” You whispered, craning your neck to look up at him.

His eyelids fluttered open, lips parting ever so softly as his eyes met yours. Chocolate irises, flashes of gold glittering within them, drunk every inch of your face up, memorizing you as thought it was the last time he’d ever see you. “Hmm?”

“Will you kiss me?” The question escaped you before you could think, your eyes slightly widening at the boldness which preceded you.

Joel stopped swaying. He looked down at you, a thumb slowly tracing across your cheekbone.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I- I wasn’t thinking.” Your face was hot with embarrassment, and your hand on his shoulder quickly dropped.

Joel remained quiet as he gently grabbed your fallen hand, moving it back to his shoulder, up towards his face, until you were cupping his cheek. “You really want me to?” He asked softly, curiously, his thumb gently running across your lower lip. You nodded without hesitation.

He leaned forward, the curve of his nose brushing against the tip of yours as he moved both of his hands to hold your face, eyes open and staring in to yours, as though he were trying to make his way through your soul. A stabbing breath hitched in the back of your throat as you gently pressed your body to his, lips mere centimeters away.

“Joel…” You whispered softly.

He paused right before your mouth, eyes now full of remorse, wide and guilty like a petulant child who had just been caught red handed. When he spoke, you felt his moustache tickle your cupid’s bow.

“I… I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do you not like me?”

“That’s not the issue, darlin’. It’s the… opposite of that, actually. But I just- I… I gotta go. I’ll stop by tomorrow with some more ration cards.” Joel pulled away from your body, rushing to the door.

“Joel, wait. Joel!” But before you could stop him, he had already left. Your heard his footsteps soon disappear, left with nothing but the scratching vinyl.

In my heart, it will remain

My stardust melody

The memory of love’s refrain.

Joel awoke with a violent jerk, to the bitter smell of coffee and the bright warning of morning light.

“Wakey, wakey sleepy head. Made you some coffee!” Ellie smiled at Joel as she dug her heels into the dying fire, handing Joel the metal cup of brown liquid.

“I told you no fires, Ellie. Someone could see us.”

“It’s fine. It’ll be okay. And if anyone comes and tries to hurt us, I’ll use my super slick Ninja skills I learned on ‘em! Promise! Now drink your nasty bean juice and let’s get going.” Ellie rolled up the sleeping bags as Joel stared into space, sipping his coffee before dumping the rest of it out.

“How long was I out for?”

Ellie shrugged, walking beside him as they made their way towards the open valley. “No clue. But you were muttering to yourself. Woke me up.”

“Was I? Mutterin’ what?”

Ellie looked at him, a small, sad smile playing on her mouth. When she said your name, his stomach turned. That beautiful name. That terrible, awful name that haunted him at every corner. It crept through his mind like a ghost, in and out of the hallway of his memories, refusing to ever leave.

“Weird.” Joel finally said, after a long, thick, uncomfortable silence. “Let’s…. let’s head out now.”

An hour or so had passed, hiking through the forest towards the open valley, before Ellie realized Joel had been whistling. She had never heard him whistle before. And, like always, her curiosity got the better of her.

“What is that?” She asked.

“What’s what?” Joel answered, looking around to try and pin down what she was talking about.

“The song you’re whistling. What is it? I like it.”

“Oh.” Joel hadn’t noticed he had been making any noise. “It’s called Stardust. An old song, before my time even.”

“Who’s it by?”

“There are a few renditions, I can’t remember who did it first. My favorite version was by Nat King Cole.” Joel explained, clearing a makeshift path through the jutting branches and scratching leaves.

“I’ve got my one question, you know.” Ellie stated with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “About her.”

“M’kay. Make it quick.” His voice grumbled out lowly like an over worked furnace, eyebrows tight together as he walked ahead of her.

“Where’d she go?” Ellie finally mustered up the courage to ask the question, slowly looking at Joel’s back. She noticed how it stiffened at the question, and for a moment she regretted ever asking anything.

But Joel’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “What do you mean?” He finally choked out, clearing his throat.

“Like, if you liked her so bad, why isn’t she with us? You’ve protected me all this way. I-… I can’t imagine the lengths you would go for someone you actually liked.” Ellie joked, trying to lighten the air, the air which had suddenly grown so chewable, so thick and stuffy.

“I don’t hate you, kid.” Joel mumbled, rubbing at his face. “She, uh, she left. While I was out doin’ a run with Tess. Just up and vanished. No note, no nothin’.”

Ellie could feel the pain radiating from Joel, although she couldn’t quite pin point it in his words. He was good at hiding things like that. You don’t spend months with a person and not pick up their habits.

“How long ago was that?” She asked quietly, softly.

“‘Bout three years before I met you.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” Joel muttered. “Now, no more questions until tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Ellie grumbled, watching her feet as she walked.

“Joel!” His name tangled through the air, breathless and wanting. His ear was pressed to the door, hand on the door knob. Waiting. Thinking. Pondering.

Your legs were spread open, jeans halfway down your legs, panties to the side as your middle finger lazily rubbed circles in your clit, your free hand kneading against your exposed breast, chest flushed with the hot hand of want. No. Of need.

You couldn’t get the image out of your head. Slick curls pushed back, lips turned into a scowl, bulging arms chopping at the thick log of wood like it owed him something. You remember the rage swirling in his eyes, dark and angry, knitted brows tight and bold. Why was he so god damn hot when he was livid?

“Oh, God. Fuck.” Your whimpers filled his ears, well- his good ear, at least- and Joel felt his jeans beginning to tighten.

Something overtook Joel. Something primal, something instinctual, because before he had a chance to think, he was barging in to your room, mind empty with thoughts only of you, of your pleasure. You jumped with a squeal of surprise, face coated with embarrassment, grabbing a pillow to try and cover yourself up. It was a fruitless attempt, because Joel still saw exactly what he wanted to see. You.

“Joel! Oh God. Jesus Christ….. how-how much of that did you hear?” You wanted to cry. To deteriorate into a pile of rubble would have been your best option. Anything to not have to deal with his gaze. Stern, unreadable, dark. Your heart was slamming against your chest.

“I heard enough.” He whispered, slowly stepping towards you.

You blinked the forming tears of embarrassment away quickly, propping yourself up better on your elbows, finally garnering the courage to look up at him, right in his eyes. A long, deep, sensual gaze steaming from him.

Joel reached for you hesitantly, his hand gently grabbing your knee. A rough thumb traced circles into your skin, smooth and vanilla scented from the lotion he had smuggled for you on a particularly boring run. He watched the way your skin pricked with goosebumps, the way your leg leaned in to his touch. You wanted this. He knew, looking into your eyes, so soft and tender with desire, that he was the only thing on your mind.

“Please,” you whispered, voice shaking in the dimly lit room. “Please touch me, Joel.”

When he finally gathered the courage to lean forward, when those horrible thoughts of shame that so often plagued him had been pushed to the back of his mind, he heard Tess shouting his name in the distance.

When Joel saw Tommy for the first time in ages, he could barely contain himself. He embraced his little brother, tight and hard, feeling the familiar heat of tears welling in the pits of his eyes.

As dusk soon pulled across the sky, Tommy made sure to tell Joel which house would be his. “House 37! Two lefts and a right.” Tommy reminded him, as he jogged away to meet Maria.

It was only until he reached the movie theatre that Tommy realized he gave Joel the wrong number. Oh well, he thought to himself, Joel will figure it out.

The hot water cascaded down Joel’s back, steam dancing through the air, covering him in a warm blanket, the smell of vanilla body wash filling his nostrils. Vanilla. It reminded him so much of you. Of that night, the night he almost had a taste of you. You were so close, yet still managed to remain just out of reach.

Joel was so preoccupied with his thoughts of you, you, you, that he hadn’t heard the front door downstairs open.

• • •

It had been a particularly long and exhausting day for you. You had been posted a mile south in a rundown factory, keeping watch for Raiders as a group of workers focused their abilities on turning the old building into a new extension of your town.

Maria wanted to turn it in to a greenhouse and new horse stable. With the newest colt in town, Shimmer, she figured horse breeding could be a bright part of their future, and if it grew well and but enough, they could extend further out into the wilderness.

Well, that was Maria’s dream. But you had seen how slow these workers went about their business, how they often broke into fights and managed to forget their tasks entirely. How Maria had ever cultivated this place…. well, that was beyond you.

Your thoughts were full of Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He was a hard worker. Persistent and tenacious, strong and able, stern and forthright- he was everything you wanted in a man. He was just like the knights you would read about, yet he had a twinge of anti-hero that always enticed you, always pulled you in closer.

Thinking about Joel was always draining. You missed his laugh, gritty and low and never that frequent. You missed his hands, well worked and scarred. You missed his eyes, deep and mysterious and full of something that you could never quite pin point.

After these long day dreams with him at the forefront, it left you craving a life you had never gotten to live with him, a life you had never known.

By the time you reached your house it was dark, and your feet ached from the long trek. You felt much older than you actually were. Taking your boots off, you noticed the hallway light upstairs was on.

“Weird.” You whispered to yourself, ultimately shrugging it off as you switched it off, walking to your room.

The door was shut. Double weird. You lived alone, and almost always forgot to shut your door.

The bathroom door was ajar, and you saw steam swirling out of it, yet the shower was off.

“Okay, what the fuck.” You hissed, reaching for your knife. You had already turned your gun in. Hand to hand combat…. well, that would have to do, even if it wasn’t your strong suit.

Behind the closed door of your master suite, you hear someone opening up drawers. “God dammit, Tommy!” You heard a muffled snarl, and your eyes widened.

You dropped the knife, clattering against the carpet with a faint cling, as you brought your hands to your head. No. No. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be him. Surely not.

You rarely spoke to Tommy. You heard he had a brother named Joel here and there, but you never asked. Never gave any part of yourself away. To the people of Jackson City, you were quiet and reserved- kind, always- but haunted by something.

No, by someone.

Your hand was shaking. The metal door knob was cold on your palm, shivers coursing straight down your spine. With a quivering lip, you barely had time to turn the handle before the door flung open, thoughts of self defense and protection miles away.

A figure, huffing with annoyance, stood in front of you. A white shirt stretched taut against a broad chest, sweatpants hanging on a low waist, a bundle of dirty clothes resting in his arm. His arm. His familiar, tanned, muscular arm.

Joel.

Joel. Joel.

The syllable rolled around your brain, head empty as you gathered the courage to slowly look up at the man. His eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise as he stared at you. Both of you stood, in the midst of a proper western stand off, the air stagnant around your bodies.

Neither of you said a word. How could you? What was there to say? You blinked rapidly, rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to spook the apparition of Joel Miller away. Surely it was a ghost. Perhaps you were finally losing your mind. Perhaps the end of the world had caught up with you.

You went to speak, but a gargled mess of noises were all you could come up with.

Before you had a chance to correct yourself, he had scooped you up in to the tightest hug of your life.

Joel’s left arm was wrapped around your waist, pressing you close to his chest, while his right laid across your back, his large hand pressed into the back of your head. You grasped ahold of him, fingers digging into his skin as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

Before you could catch them, tears were flowing from your eyes, staining his shirt with a puddle of wimpy cries.

“Shh.” He cooed, voice shaking. “I’m right here. I’m here.” Joel held you as though you would vanish if he let go, slowly falling to the floor with you tightly pressed to him. He cradled you in his lap, strong arms secure and steadfast around your body. Joel wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

When you finally looked up, you saw his own cheeks west with the ghosts of previous tears.

“Oh.” You whimpered, touching his face gingerly. “I haven’t seen this face in so long. Look at you.”

“Look at you.” He countered, thumb tracing down the apple of your cheek. “You’ve only grown more beautiful.”

“How… are you…. you’re the Joel Tommy mentioned? How could I have been so stupid.” You whispered, shaking your head.

“How long have you been here?”

“Two years. Managed to find a group of mercs, travelled with them to Kansas City before FEDRA got ahold of them. I was the only one to escape and, somehow, I found myself in this place.” You explained, his face now cupped in your hands.

His lips looked so tantalizing. The thing you wanted most in this world, right in this moment, was for Joel to kiss you. Hard. Deep. Passionately.

Joel looked down at you. He knew that look. Knew those emotions in your eyes, knew the way you looked when desire overtook your being.

He was so tired of being scared, so tired of the shame and guilt that followed him like smoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, taking a thick gulp.

You nodded slowly. “Kiss me.”

And he did. It was just as you had always imagined. Soft and sweet, deep and passionate. Your mouths molded together as though they were two puzzle pieces created for each other. It felt right. It felt good. It felt…. perfect. The way you had dreamed it would.

You shifted in his lap so you were straddling him, arms thrown around his neck as you beckoned him closer, his palms pressed firmly into your sides as he held you in place. You both knew you weren’t going anywhere.

You parted your lips as his hungry tongue swept against you, gently exploring your mouth, tasting your spit, the minty residue of your now thrown away gun mixing with his mouth. Joel groaned as you shuffled, and you felt the bulge in his sweatpants where his cock was getting harder and bigger.

You had seen his dick before. Once. When you both stumbled to your room drunk and you had given him a blowjob. The best blowjob of his life, as Joel remembered. He had held you by the hair, barely touching you except a gentle brush of his hand down your cheek after he had finished down your throat. You remembered how his eyes had engulfed you, how you watched as he seared the image of you on your knees into the recesses of his memory.

That was the closest you two had ever got, the farthest he had ever dared to go. And even then, it was selfish of him. He went to bed under the heavy blanket of ignominy, and he swore he would never do it again. He was drunk, Joel assured himself, it wasn’t like he….. loved you or anything. Right?

But now, with his tongue searching your throat and his hungry hands feeling their way around his skin, with the way your clothed bodies moved in harmony against the scratchy carpet of the hallway floor, what else could it be? Lust? No. Lust doesn’t last like this. It sizzles away at the prospect of someone new. No, no. You both knew what it was. Love. But you both too fearful to admit it.

“Joel.” You whispered against his mouth. He opened his eyes at the sound of his name, the way it so sweetly rolled off your tongue.

“Yes?”

“Take me to bed.” Your words stuttered against themselves as you took in a heavy heave of breath. “Take me to bed… and make me yours.”

Joel swallowed the tight lump dangling at the back of his throat. He had two options. One, say no and push you away. Two, give in to his deepest desires and fall further into this love he had tried so hard to forget.

The last time he chose one, you ran half way across the country.

He was a smart man, Joel. He knew exactly which one to pick. No more would he run.

He scooped you up into his arms wordlessly, carrying you to your neatly made bed. Your hair splayed across the white pillows, your doe eyes staring up at him, full of yearning, full of want.

You watched with hawk-like eyes as he slid his shirt off, moving to do the same before Joel stopped you.

“No. I want to undress you myself.” You swallowed thickly at his command, nodding as your neck grew hot with desire.

When Joel was left with nothing but his boxers on, you drunk his image in. A small tuff of hair rested above the hem of his underwear. His belly was soft, and stray curls of hair dotted across his broad chest. His shoulders were strong, broad, welcoming.

You looked up into his face, eyelashes fluttering.

He had a few more wrinkles, a lot more gray in his hair. There were a few more scars etched into his skin, a darker tint to his eyes. He had aged. But so had you.

You had always liked your men older, anyways.

Joel Miller was the man of your fucking dreams, and he was standing nearly naked in front of you.

“Up.” He motioned for you to sit up and you did without hesitation. A smile crossed his mouth as he cupped your cheek. “So good for me.” Joel murmured, slowly peeling your shirt off.

“For you.” You whispered with finality.

He nodded, eyes twinkling with….. happiness. Joel worked the lace of the leather boots you wore, carefully pulling them off your feet before sliding his hands towards the zipper of your jeans. He watched your face as he slowly unbuttoned them, stripping them from your legs. He watched the way your lips parted with desire, the way your eyelids shut as the feeling of his hands grazing your skin.

“Look at you.” Joel whispered, and you met his steaming gaze. “So beautiful.” He learned forward, pressing a kiss to the hem of your underwear. “Lay back for me, honey.”

You did as you were told, shivering as his warm hands pried your legs apart. He stared at your clothed pussy, the patch of wetness showcasing your arousal. Joel chewed on his cheek as he drunk the image in, taking in a sharp breath as he discarded your underwear.

And there you finally were. Open and exposed, laid bare for him, and only him. Joel slid down on his stomach, inching his way towards your cunt as he reached forwards, using his thumb to slowly trace down your outer lips.

You shuddered, taking in a deep breath of as your hands snaked to his head, running your fingers through his thick curls, watching his finger slowly move. You saw him spread you open, you pink, wet pussy on display for his searing gaze.

“Ain’t that a sight.” He hummed out. “This all for me?” His voice was smug. He knew. And you knew he knew.

“All for you.” You admitted, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

“Bet you taste real nice, too.” Joel leaned forward, extending his tongue as he swept it flat across your clit. This made you whimper out, your grip on his hair tightening. “Just as I thought. Sweetest thing I ever had.”

Your head fell back onto the pillows as he wrapped this lips around your swelling clit, sucking softly at the button. He was holding back, his movements teasingly gentle. You were squirming for him, nails digging into his scalp, your breath begging for me.

Joel pulled back, much to your dismay, and rubbed his middle finger against your entrance. He slowly pushed it in, grunting quietly.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, honey. Can’t wait to feel you stretched against my cock.”

“Oh, God. Joel, please.” You murmured, watching as he resumed his tongue against your clit, swirling and flicking. Your thighs were shaking on his shoulders, where you hadn’t even realized you had propped them up.

Joel chuckled against your pussy, savoring the sweetness of your arousal, letting it coat his tongue like sugar. He lapped at your clit, middle finger slowly hitting up against that spot, coaxing you closer towards an orgasm.

“If-if you don’t stop Joel, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Babydoll, that’s what I want.” He responded smugly, sucking harder at your clit.

“B-but I want to cum on your cock. I-I’ll be too sensitive.” You explained, hips grinding as your fingers pulled at his curls even more.

“We’ll see about that.”

Joel added his ring finger into your pussy, pushing and pumping into you, wanton noises of filth filling your ears. You cried out his name, right on the brink of orgasm, as Joel continued his same movements, never daring to stray or pause.

“Joel. Joel! Oh, fuck. Joel. God dammit. Joel, I’m cumming!” You were sure the whole neighborhood could heard but you weren’t half fussed about that at the moment. All you knew was his mouth was drawing you in to the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

Tears pricked your eyes as he rode out your climax, his mouth never leaving your clit. His fingers slowed down to a halt, yet his mouth never left your cunt.

You whimpered, trying to push him away from your sensitive pussy, but Joel didn’t let up. He grabbed your thighs, relishing in your moans as he made sure to lick up every drop of your cum, every inch of your wetness. He wanted the flavor of your pussy to be stuck in his mouth for the rest of his life.

You collapsed onto the bed as he slowly pulled away, leaving a hot kiss to each thigh.

“Was that nice?” Joel asked smugly, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shut up, asshole.” You teased, a soft laugh escaping you. “Oh.” You murmured to yourself once you saw the bulge tenting at his boxers. You reached forward, gently grabbing it with your small hand. “Looks like we should do something about this.”

Joel hissed in a sharp breath of air, watching with intent as you tugged off his boxers. He kicked them off, his thick cock slapping against his stomach. He was thick, long, sexy- his cock could have been in a porn magazine, to be frank.

“Yeah, we should do somethin’ ‘bout this.” He had climbed on top of you, hands cupping your head as you glanced up at him with a tantalizing look stuck deep in your eyes.

“Yeah, we should. Fuck me, cowboy.” You whispered, resting your hands on his cheek. “Fuck me like you missed me.”

“I did miss you.” Joel admitted, almost shyly.

“I know.” You ran your hand through his hair, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. You sucked in a soft breath of air as he slowly began filling you up, allowing you the time to grow accustomed to the way he felt inside you.

“‘Course you do.” He snorted through gritted teeth, filling you completely up to the hilt.

You groaned softly, wrapping your arms around him as you held him to your chest, smiling up at him softly. “Feels so good.”

Joel buried his face in your neck, slowly moving his hips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. So fuckin’…. so fuckin’ good for me. A god damned dream.” His words were hot, guttural, melding in to your skin like paint on a canvas.

You shuddered, dragging your nails down the length of his back, resting them on his ass. His movements grew harder, wilder, every inch of his throbbing cock deep within your walls.

“Christ, Joel.”

He groaned against you, propping himself up on his palms to watch your face. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned forward, lips pressing to yours in a burning kiss, igniting your body aflame.

“Love how you say my name.” He whispered as he pulled away from your mouth.

“Joel.” You mumbled, a teasing grin cascading on to your face:

With a smile of his own, Joel’s hand traced across your neck, down your shoulders, fingers tickling the skin of your arm before he reached your hand. Joel held it in his own, lacing your fingers tightly within his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

His thrusts were steadier now that your eyes were on each others, hand held tightly in his own as he took the feeling of you in. The way your pussy clenched around him, the way your body felt tight on his. He pulled away from you, sitting back a bit as he held your hips, fucking himself in to you.

“Touch your clit.” He ordered, eyes darkening. You swallowed, lowering your hand to your pussy, where you did as you were told. You shivered. “Rub it.” He whispered, voice soft.

You rubbed it, your middle finger circling your swollen clit tenderly.

“You’re going to cum one more time for me. Okay?”

You nodded obediently, gently placing your free hand on to his arm. “Okay.” Your voice was sweet, angelic. It made Joel’s cock twitch, an animalistic grunt soon following.

He looked on with hungry eyes as you played with your pussy, stretching it out for him. You both watched the way his cock filled you up, the way the lips of your pussy strained against him. You whimpered at the sight, wondering how something so big could even possibly fit inside you.

You resumed your masturbation, fingering at your clit as he pumped in to you.

“That’s a good girl, rubbing your clit for me. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He murmured, eyes glossed over with desire.

“Gonna cum for you again.” You warned, hips bucking.

“Yeah? Cum on my cock, honey. Paint it with your pretty cum.”

That’s all it took to send you over the edge. Your back arched off the mattress as your second orgasm washed over you, vision blurring white. Joel grabbed ahold of you and pulled you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he held you, pumping up into you as you shivered and shuttered against him. You chanted his name like a mantra, crying out against him.

You were eye level now, and Joel has you by the jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I’m gonna cum inside you. Gonna fill this little pussy up.” He whispered, forehead resting against yours.

“Cum inside me.” You begged, hands moving to his shoulders as he fucked your body on to his cock.

Joel groaned, primal noises filtering out as his dick convulsed inside of you, his hot cum painting the inside of your cunt. You moaned at the feeling of being properly full, grinding against him gently as you sat on his lap, your arms holding each other close and tight.

When his orgasm had subsided and you both fell against the soft mattress, you were still entangled with one another, his dick still stuffed inside you.

You stared at one another as though you had never known anyone else, eyes searching, reaching for the soul, sparkling with love, swimming with adoration.

His fingers traced down your back, resting on your thigh as he brought you closer.

“I’m sorry I left.” You whispered, your hand resting on the side of his neck. “I… I didn’t know what to do with all of it.”

“All of what?” Joel asked, voice deep and quiet.

“All of the love I had for you.” You sniffled, nuzzling your cheek into his. “Have.” You corrected.

“Have?” A smirk was tugging at his voice.

You took in a deep breath, bravely nodding your head. “Have. I…. you know I do.”

Joel rested his head against yours, looking down at you. “I’ve always known.”

A moment of silence fell over your bodies.

“I don’t think it’s goin’ anywhere, either.”

“Good.” Joel whispered, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I want it. All of it. ‘Til the day I die.”

“It’s yours, Joel. Always yours.”

3K notes · View notes

ursemma · 2 days

Text

"I'll always love you" Pt 4 (final)

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Mattheo Riddle × y/n

Theodore nott × y/n (ex)

Warning: fighting, tension, Theodore being a dick, jealousy, angst.

Summary: after your first day in London, you thought you'll make it through the wedding without any drama, well fate has different plans for you I guess.

"Oh hi, I'm Theodore, I was just here to invite you both to the bonfire, I'll take my leave now." Theodore said while his eyes wondering between me and Matty.

"sure we'll be there!" I answered him before shutting the door.